Oh, You Majestic Elves
by kinda-just-here
Summary: What if house-elves looked like the elves from Lord of the Rings? What would change? A series of oneshots taking place throughout the series, chronicling each interaction between Harry and the newly handsome and gorgeous house-elves.
1. Chapter 1

**This idea just gave me some really funny mental images. It's based off of a Tumblr post that I saw a while back. Enjoy!**

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Chapter One: In Which Harry Simultaneously Has the Worst and Weirdest Birthday of His Life

Harry Potter's twelfth birthday started off quite badly. At breakfast, he and Uncle Vernon got into an argument about Hedwig, Aunt Petunia sent him off to stay out of the way immediately after, and Dudley simply tried to harass Harry as much as possible. On top of all this, Harry hadn't had any word from the magical world, and he was going a little crazy.

Walking outside to go sit on the lawn, Harry wondered why none of his friends had owled him even though summer vacation was almost over. They _had_ promised they would, hadn't they? Or had Hogwarts just been some strange dream of his? Harry honestly couldn't be sure at this point. He wished he had some word, just something other than some schoolbooks and memories to prove that it-and the magical world-was something other than fantasy.

The sun beat down on the land, and soon, Harry felt like he was just a raisin in the sun. He sat up and looked at the hedge in front of him, and oddly enough, _the hedge looked back._

Harry blinked.

No, that wasn't his imagination. There actually was a pair of large, green eyes staring back at him from the hedge. And was that a pair of long arms resting on the ground in front of the hedge? _Those_ hadn't been there before.

Before Harry could even move or say anything, the arms and the eyes disappeared with a pop, Dudley was coming to make fun of him, and before long, he had forgotten all about the strange encounter.

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Harry, having prepared for Uncle Vernon's business dinner, walked upstairs to sulk on his bed, but when he got there, he realized that there was something already on it. A very strange something.

Said something looked rather like a tall, thin man, with long blond hair and large green eyes. The only thing separating him from being someone who all the girls would swoon over was his...interesting choice of clothing. Or rather, _lack_ of clothing. The man (or whatever he was) was only wearing a large pillowcase, which barely covered him up.

As soon as he registered this, Harry yelped slightly and looked away. "Wha- er, hello?"

"Harry Potter! Long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir, _such_ an honor!" squeaked the something.

The voice of the something was surprising, to say the least. Harry expected the something to have a deep voice, something smooth, but instead, it squeaked. It was oddly high-pitched for something so large and handsome.

"Er, thanks," said Harry. "Uh, I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Just Dobby, sir. Dobby the house-elf," squeaked the something now known as Dobby.

"Er, _okay_. So, Dobby, what are you doing here? I don't mean to be rude, but now's not a really good time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom," said Harry, looking nervously at the door. Uncle Vernon laughed loudly downstairs; Harry supposed he'd just told his Japanese golfer joke.

At this, the elf looked incredibly sad, like someone had just kicked his puppy. His big green eyes welled up with tears. "Dobby has just… oh, Dobby just does not know where to begin!"

"Oh, well, why don't you sit down, then?" asked Harry.

Dobby promptly began to cry very noisily. " _Sit down!_ Like an equal, he asks me to sit down! Oh, Harry Potter is _truly_ great!" he wailed.

Harry hushed him quickly, looking nervously at the door again. He fought the bizarre urge to laugh, because seeing the elf with _that_ body and _that_ voice was just hilarious. "Like an equal? Well, then you can't have met many good wizards," he mused quietly, still a little worried that Uncle Vernon might have heard him.

Dobby shook his head a little, his long blond locks swishing behind him. Then, he promptly leapt up, surprising Harry because he hadn't realized just how tall the elf really was, and began banging his head on the window.

" _What_ are you doing?" hissed Harry, springing up to pull Dobby back on to the bed. "Why did you do _that_?" he whisper-screamed.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter sir, but Dobby had to punish himself because he almost spoke ill of his family!" squeaked Dobby.

 _His family? Hm, I'll have to ask Hermione about that when I get back to Hogwarts._ Speaking aloud, Harry said, "Is there anything I can help you with? Like, I don't know, clothes?"

Dobby dissolved into fresh tears of gratitude. "Harry Potter is both _good and great_!"

"Shh!" said Harry. The talking downstairs seemed to falter a bit.

A little more quietly, Dobby said, "Dobby heard tell that Harry Potter escaped from the Dark Lord once last year. Oh, Harry Potter is valiant and bold! But Dobby has come to tell him, to warn him… _Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts._ "

With this proclamation, Dobby's warning only escalated, and soon, Harry's mind was swimming. _Not go back to Hogwarts? But I can't stay here!_ When Harry voiced this, and other concerns, Dobby tried to say something more, but had to punish himself again, and so on, and so forth. But the last straw was when Dobby smashed the lamp on his head and yelped, _loudly_ , because that was when Uncle Vernon started coming upstairs.

"Quick! Hide!" hissed Harry, trying to spot a good place to put the elf. Considering that Dobby was about a foot and a half taller than him, and was very eye-catching, Harry had some trouble with this. Finally deciding on a spot, Harry shoved Dobby into his closet and shut the door, leaping onto the bed just as Uncle Vernon opened the door.

"What-the- _devil_ -are-you-doing?" ground out Uncle Vernon. He was a horrifying shade of red; it seemed to Harry like he was going to pop an artery sometime soon. "One more sound, and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"

Harry sighed in relief after Uncle Vernon stomped from the room, only just then noticing that a bit of Dobby's hair was sticking out of the crack between the closet door and the wall.

Later, when things all went pear-shaped, Harry wished that he had caught Dobby earlier in the garden, or better yet, Dobby had never come at all. He didn't think seeing the elf crouched on top of the refrigerator like some kind of monkey was worth the punishment he got later- even that hilarious image wasn't worth being locked in his room with bars on the window and a cat flap on the door.

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 **I know that I'm sticking really closely to canon right now, but it will (hopefully) diverge more later. For now, I'm just setting things up. This will be multi-chapter, but I don't know when my next update will be, sorry. But anyway, hope you liked it!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone, I'm back! I am so, _so_ sorry for the long wait! I tried to write as much as I could and update earlier, but my teachers started handing out more and more homework, and swimming started, so I was busier than ever. I'll try to update sooner in the future, but school is and always will be my number one priority, so updates will probably be pretty irregular. Sorry! **

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed this! Seeing those notifications in my inbox really makes my day.**

 **I realized that I didn't put one in the previous chapter, so here's my disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter Two: In Which Harry Really Hates Gilderoy Lockhart

It had only been a few hours since Harry had gotten to the hospital wing and had been force-fed Skele-Gro by Madam Pomfrey, and yet he was already hating life.

For starters, _why_ couldn't that git Lockhart have just let Madam Pomfrey do her job? That way, he wouldn't be stuck in this mess, and he would still have the bones in his arm! At this moment, Harry felt like going to Lockhart (no matter what time it was) and punching him in the face. Alas, he had a very good reason why he had to stay on Lockhart's good side, but it _stung_ to see him so happy even after his stupidity had flooded Hogwarts and captivated any available witch (or wizard, for that matter).

Harry sighed and rolled over a little, trying to fall asleep again.

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Harry awoke just a little while later. For a moment, he wondered what had awoken him so suddenly, until he registered the shooting and stabbing pain that was in his arm. Then, he realized that _someone was on his bed and they were sponging his forehead in the dark._ Harry panicked for a second before he caught the large green eyes shining in the moonlight and the long blond hair hanging down like a curtain.

"What the- get _off,_ Dobby!"

The house-elf was looking at him sadly, his eyes almost glowing in the darkness. A single tear ran down his perfectly straight nose.

"Dobby tried to warn Harry Potter, sir, he did," whispered Dobby, almost whimpering. "But why, oh _why_ did Harry Potter come back to Hogwarts? Why didn't you go back home when you missed the train?"

Harry slowly pushed himself up on the bed, suspicion filling his mind. "Wait a minute," he said. "It was you! _You_ stopped the barrier from letting us through!"

Dobby trembled like a leaf in the wind. "Oh, yes, sir," he whispered. Showing Harry ten long fingers with perfect nails peeking out oddly from behind bandages, "Dobby had to iron his fingers later, sir, but Dobby didn't care, sir, because Harry Potter was safe! Dobby did not think that Harry Potter was so persistent!"

He had curled up into a ball and shivering, and seemed to be on the verge of tears again.

At this, Harry became even more angry. "Dobby, you almost got me and Ron expelled! You'd better leave before my bones regrow, or else I might strangle you."

Dobby shook his head and smiled a little. "Dobby is used to death threats, sir; he gets them five times a day at home."

He wiped his tears away with the pillowcase he wore, making it ride up a bit. Harry averted his eyes; more of the elf was the last thing he wanted to see in the middle of the night. Despite this, he felt his anger leave him. Seeing Dobby wipe his face, Harry was reminded of what he had asked Hermione earlier in the year.

" _Hey, Hermione? D'you know what house-elves mean when they say 'my family' and 'my masters'?" Harry asked._

 _Hermione blinked at the odd question and said, "I don't know, but I'll look it up in the library."_

 _At this point, Ron jumped in. "Well, what do you mean, Harry? House-elves are slaves, of course."_

" _Slaves?!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed at the same time. Ron proceeded to explain the specifics of house-elf enslavement, much to their horror._

After learning about this, Harry concluded that Dobby had absolutely awful masters, and that he shouldn't be _too_ angry at him, because he had such a horrible life already. Still, that resolution didn't stop Harry from being annoyed.

Dobby, still dabbing at his eyes, said, "Dobby thought that his bludger would be enough to turn Harry Potter away, but-"

" _Your_ bludger!" Harry interrupted, the fury rising up in him like a wave. " _You_ made that bludger try to kill me!"

"Not kill, sir. Just maim, or seriously injure, enough to be sent home," said Dobby a little sheepishly.

"Oh, I didn't realize it was just that," said Harry angrily. "Do tell why you want me sent home in pieces."

"Oh, if only Harry Potter knew," said Dobby, his hair blowing in what seemed to be a slight breeze, though Harry felt nothing. " _If only_ Harry Potter knew what he meant to us, the magical creatures of the world! We remember what life was like when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of power! Harry Potter is a beacon of light in a dark night for all of us, and now with the terrible things happening at Hogwarts, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open again-"

He cut himself off as though he crossed some invisible boundary, began smashing his head with the water jug off of Harry's bedside table, and fell off the bed. A second later, he was crawling back on like some long-legged, blond spider. He crouched over Harry again, almost in the fetal position.

"Oh, so there _is_ a Chamber of Secrets! And it's been opened before?!" Harry whisper-screamed into Dobby's pointed ears. " _Tell_ me, Dobby!"

Harry noticed that Dobby's hand was inching towards the water jug again and quickly grabbed it, squeezing his wrist tightly. "But Dobby, I'm not a Muggle-born. How am _I_ the one in danger?"

"Ah sir, please ask no more of Dobby," the elf said mournfully, his eyes wide and practically glowing in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, and Harry Potter must not be here when they happen...go home, sir, go home!"

"No!" growled Harry. "One of my best friends is here, and she's a Muggle-born! If I leave, she'll be the first in line for whatever's in the Chamber to take-"

Dobby moaned miserably and said, "Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends! How noble sir, how noble! But sir, save yourself, you must, Harry Potter sir must not-"

He froze, his pointed ears seemingly becoming even more pointed and stretching out to be able to hear better. Harry heard it as well- there were footsteps in the passage outside.

"Oh no. Dobby must go!" whispered the elf, terrified. There was an almost silent pop, and suddenly Harry's fist was clenched, not around Dobby's wrist, but around nothing but thin air. The footsteps grew closer, and Harry fell back on the bed, feigning sleep.

In the next second, Dumbledore appeared, backing into the hospital wing in what seemed to be his nightclothes. Oddly enough, he was carrying one end of a statue, with Professor McGonagall carrying the other end. Together, they gently put it onto a bed, with Professor McGonagall hurrying past Harry's bed to get Madam Pomfrey. He heard urgent whispering, and then Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey swept past Harry's bed in a flutter of tartan and cardigans. He heard Madam Pomfrey gasp.

"What on Earth happened?" asked Madam Pomfrey, bending over the statue.

Dumbledore sighed and said, "Another attack. Minerva found him on the stairs with a bunch of grapes next to him. We think he was trying to sneak up to visit Potter."

Leaning slightly to get a better look, Harry realized that it wasn't a statue at all, but a petrified Colin Creevey, wide eyed and with his camera sticking out in front of him.

Harry _really_ hated Gilderoy Lockhart.

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 **Next chapter's when the story'll really start to diverge from canon. Hope you liked it!**


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